The Park
by Charcoal Brown
Summary: A simple walk in the park can change your life. GSR, complete fluff.
1. Sara's POV

A/N: This is my first fanfic so I would REALLY appreciate feedback... just please be gentle with me! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned them, we wouldn't need to write fanfic to get them together. I don't own any of the characters, or anything else associated with CSI, so please don't sue me! No one has helped me in any way so all the mistakes are my own.

**The Park**

My breath leaves my lungs in a rush. There he is, just standing there so casually. How can he be so casual while my heart and mind scream so loudly to him? How can anyone within a two mile radius not hear my heart's rapid pattering responding to his presence?

He leans one shoulder against a lamp post up ahead on the path, his hands are in his pockets and his left foot crosses over his right. He hasn't seen me and I'm not sure whether I want him to or not. His dark hair, sprinkled liberally with gray falls in gentle curls on his forehead. I once again feel the insane desire to run my fingers through his curls and his well trimmed beard. I've stopped walking now and I remain in the shadows which the park we are now in has plenty of. I can't help but take advantage of the chance I have to study, unobserved, the features I love so.

He looks thoughtful, but that's not unusual, he is almost always deep in thought. That's one of the things I love about him. He's a scientist, philosopher, a poet, a teacher… my dream man.

The street lamp he's leaning against basks him in a yellow glow, making him look otherworldly. This is also something I've become used to; he always seems a little unearthly.

An endless fountain of knowledge, I am constantly learning from him. He knows so much about nearly every subject from philosophy to entomology to world religions.

Will I ever again find someone who can whisper the words of the great poets, rattle off baseball stats, explain in detail the life cycle of the carpet beetle, and steal my heart away so completely? I doubt it, and there lies the problem.

The whispered words of the poets will never leave his lips for me; I will never be the one to share his life. He doesn't want my heart; doesn't want me, he's made that clear.

I should just move on, forget him. Even as I think it, I know I can never do that. Once upon a time I thought we might have something. I thought I read more than friendship in his beautiful blue eyes that I so easily lose myself in. The way he gently flirted with me set my heart hoping.

I took a chance, I made a move, and I got shot down. Later, I overheard him telling a stranger that though he felt something for me, I wasn't worth the risk. That cut deep, real deep. It still does when I think of it even though it was several years ago.

Yet, I'm still here. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't just leave then. After all, he was the reason I came in the first place. However, I realize that having no contact with him; that never seeing him would be even more painful than being around him knowing he'll never be mine. He's my addiction. Somehow I've become dependant on him being close. Somehow knowing that when I get in trouble, he may show up and hold my hand makes me feel secure. It's pathetic, I know. I've always been an independent person I wish I could feel as sure and confident as I once did.

Ten minutes has now gone by of me standing in the shadow of a tree watching him stand in the light of the lamp. He hasn't moved except to shift his shoulder slightly. He's gazing at the grass ahead of him as though it holds the secrets of the world and he has only to decipher them.

What's he doing here anyway? I come to this park to walk several times a week but I've never seen him here. I know many people may think it odd to go walking in a park before it's even light outside. I find it calming, I like that there aren't a bunch of people milling around at this hour.

I need to get going but he's in my path and I'm not sure I want to talk to him. Should I just walk by him and talk to him only if he talks to me? I wonder if he'll bother to say anything even if he sees me. A while ago I would have been sure that he'd ignore me but lately he's been friendlier again. It's confusing, I'm never sure if he wants a friendship with me or if he'd prefer I left him alone.

It's starting to get ever so slightly lighter now, the sky is turning gray. I breathe in deeply and exhale deliberately to calm myself. I square my shoulders, lift my chin and walk with what I hope is a confident stride towards him.

He seems oblivious to my approach and I think it may be best to walk past pretending I don't see him. For some reason I feel nervous and my palms are sweaty. Why would I be nervous? I see him every day! I guess I don't see him out of work…. Still, I'm just walking by him, what is my problem? Can't I even walk along a practically deserted path anymore?

I'm only a few feet away from him now and at last he glances up. He looks startled to see me.

"Sara," he says simply, and now I have to respond.

All I manage is a choked sounding "Hey."

I wish I were better with words but whenever I try around him I end up over talking and I just make things worse. I try to smile at him but I'm not sure my mouth gets the message my brain is trying to send it.

"What are you doing here?" I dare to query.

I really don't expect much of an answer, I've gotten used to him blowing off my questions.

"On clear nights you can actually see some of the constellations from here since it's far enough away from The Strip's lights."

His response surprises me since I expected little more than a one syllable answer, and I am further surprised when he continues:

"Tonight, or this morning rather, the sky is quite clear and good for a little star-gazing."

I'm just about to point out that the sky is getting too light to see stars and besides he hasn't so much as glanced at the sky for the past fifteen minutes. Thankfully I realize that to say that would be admitting that I've been watching him and I manage to bite my tongue before the words leave.

This is awkward. I'm just standing here with my arms crossed over my chest looking at my feet. He's standing here pretending to look at the stars that can't be seen anymore. I should really go. I open my mouth with a polite excuse on my tongue but I never get to deliver it for he asks suddenly:

"What are _you_ doing here, if I may return the question?"

As he says this he lifts one eyebrow in classic Grissom fashion, tilting his head and looking at me semi-sideways.

"Walking," I say with a slight shrug, "I come here often to walk."

He looks surprised.

"I've never seen you here," he says, looking slightly perplexed, like I'm a puzzle he can't quite fit together.

I am tempted to make a biting comment about how he never sees me now anyway but it wouldn't be quite true. He has been getting much more attentive lately. It's not nearly the same as when I first came here, but we seem to be regaining some ground with our friendship. So, I swallow my comment and opt for just shrugging and raising my eyebrow.

"I've never seen you either so I guess that makes us even."

He smirks gently at this and looks up at the sky again.

I wonder if I should leave now and say "Well, I should probably be um… getting home, now. Despite popular belief I do sleep sometimes."

I try to keep things light and casual. He looks at me again and looks purposely skeptical.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not sure I believe that," he says with a smile. "I only believe the evidence and the evidence suggests you avoid sleep, which would make your statement untrue."

I'm surprised by his teasing and that saddens me because it used to be common.

"Well _Dr._ Grissom," I say "what do I have to do to prove my statement to you?"

I purse my lips and raise one eyebrow as high as I can. It's wonderful to be having this kind of conversation again; it almost feels like we're friends the way we used to be.

"Well, I need proof," he says.

I wonder if he realizes how close this conversation is to becoming dangerous. I'm tempted to say something slightly suggestive about him observing my nocturnal activities and documenting them… just as we once did with a dead pig. However, I don't like the idea of comparing myself to an animal carcass and I don't want to ruin this newly regained ease so I opt for letting it drop and just laugh. It feels good to laugh with him and I have no problem giving him a smile now.

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I have none so you'll just have to take my word for it."

He smiles and shrugs, "You're asking a lot of me Sara," he says.

"You underestimate yourself and I'd never ask more of you than you can give," I say before realizing the implications of what I am saying.

I hope he doesn't catch on and just takes my statement as part of our continued banter. He says nothing and I hastily avert my gaze to the imaginary stars he was previously so enthralled by.

The sky is now streaked most definitely with light and I can now see a few early joggers on the paths of the park. I realize that I'm cold and remember I was leaving. I open my mouth to say goodbye and am once again silenced by the words issuing from his mouth.

"I know," is all he says.

My mind reels… what does he mean by that? What am I supposed to think? I look at him my confusion undoubtedly written all over my face. He looks at me and gives me a slight smile. I still don't know what to make of it.

All other thoughts flee though as he reaches out and gently squeezes my hand. With Grissom actions have always spoken louder than words and my head spins. I have a thousand questions but they don't seem to matter at this second, I can worry about them later. For now I am content to give his hand a squeeze in return before he withdraws it from me.

We don't need words to understand each other. I know exactly what he means by that squeeze. He's trying to repair our crumbling… what do I even call it? Somehow the word relationship is insufficient as is every other word I can think of. Anyway, could it be he's finally making an effort towards the "us" that has never been? I feel truly happy for the first time in a very long time, but also very confused. Why now? As I look into his eyes I realize that he must have been going through the same hell I have been in. Maybe he got tired of it just like me.

He reaches out his hand and brushes a few errant strands of hair behind my left ear. I feel shocked to say the least at his bold move. His hand brushing my cheeks sends chills through my whole body. I see the look of caring and longing in his eyes.

"I can't take it anymore," he says barely above a whisper.

"Neither can I," I whisper back.

I shock myself with my ability to speak. I was sure I had lost all my capacity to form coherent words. He nods and I feel that for once the world is right. We stand there, not touching, but feeling more connected than we ever have.

"You should be going home to bed," he says at last.

"I thought you didn't believe I sleep," I tease him, smiling.

"I don't, but I feel it is my responsibility to try to get you to take care of yourself," he teases in return.

I smile and nod. I have a lot to think about, I doubt I'll be sleeping much today.

"Well, goodnight," I say.

"Good morning," he corrects, pointing at the light sky.

I shrug in a non-committal way.

"Well, I'm going to bed so good morning seems wrong… how about sweet dreams?" I say with a tone of jesting.

"I prefer 'sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite,' personally," he says in an equally light tone.

"You would, you _are_ the bug guy," I say.

He inclines his head in mock bow of acquiescence.

"I'll see you tonight," he calls after me as I turn and I walk away with a wonderful lightness of heart.

I grin and nod my agreement.

We both have our issues and insecurities, but somehow I know it will all work out. When we have problems I know he'll reach and take my hand in his and everything will be all right. After all these years, we're finally taking a step in the right direction. I realize how much I really love this park… I really must come here more often. Maybe next time I'll do a little star-gazing, and maybe I won't be alone.


	2. Grissom's POV

Disclaimer: Nothing's changed since I wrote the last chapter… dang it! I was hoping to own CSI by this time! Unfortunately, I do not. All the character flaws, spelling mistakes, and grammatical errors are mine. Blame me, but please don't sue me!

A/N: Well, I decided to write another chapter. This might be considered OOC for Grissom, but no one knows what exactly is in his mind so it _could_ be what he's thinking. Again, I would love to hear what you think. Big thanks goes out to stvinny for pointing out a couple of errors I had, I really appreciate it!

**The Park- Grissom's POV**

I force the breath from my lungs heavily. She's on my mind… again. As I walk down the path in the darkened park her face flashes before my eyes and I feel my heart give a suspicious quiver.

The darkness here is broken only by the occasional park lamp. I look ahead and see my destination. I always come to the same spot, a little area clear of trees where the night sky may be freely observed. I come here to star-gaze but I often end up thinking about her more than the constellations.

I have now reached the lamp that marks 'my' spot. I pause beneath the halo of light and lean heavily on the lamp, casting my eyes to the star-filled skies.

I am taking in the beauty of nature, but my thoughts are focusing on quite a different beauty. Like Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I allow myself to count the ways I love her. How do I love thee, Sara? Let me count the ways… Hmm… I can't think of anything creative that would sound so good or ring so true as Browning's original words: I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach… though I rarely admit it to even myself, I add.

Next I allow my thoughts to flow to what it is about her that I love. Firstly, I love her mind, how her mind and mine seem to follow the same path. I love that she seems to be able to anticipate my every move though it scares me too. I love her heart. I love that she is strong when she needs to be, yet she isn't jaded. She still has vulnerability and a heart that can be touched by others. I love her smile, how it can calm and comfort me when everything else seems to be falling apart. I love her freckles, her deep brown eyes, and her diastema. In short I love everything I can think of about her.

I suddenly realize that I am no longer looking at the stars, but that my gaze has somehow been transferred to the green grass of the park, though in this light it looks more black than green. I don't bother to try looking at the sky again; my mind is too busy with other things.

Several months ago I was at work on a pretty tough case. Sara walked into the lab with that grin on her face and I knew she had the case-cracker. I suddenly realized that I would almost commit a crime for her to solve just to see that look of smug satisfaction and elation. My mind immediately wandered to the things I could do to put a look of satisfaction on her face and I found myself almost blushing. It scared me a lot and made me think even more. I realized that my job and my emotional safety aren't worth going home to an empty town house. They aren't worth eating most of my meals alone, and having nothing but cold sheets greet me at night.

I've always been afraid to let her get close and then have to lose her, but I feel like I've lost her already. Isn't it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I've lost her but I've never had any of the benefits of love. I realized in those few days what should have been obvious all along: she's stuck around this long just hoping for a chance with you, what makes you think she'll drop you anyway? She's young and beautiful and she deserves more, yet she isn't finding more, she is still alone… like me.

Ever since then, though I've been riddled with doubts and insecurities I have been slowly trying to win back her friendship and hopefully love. Last night I brought her a coffee as she worked on the computer. She looked so surprised that I felt a stab of guilt that I have obviously been so uncaring. At least it helped strengthen my resolve to win her, and the smile I received made me want to run and get her another coffee just to see it again.

I just hope I'm not too late to have another chance. Not that I deserve another chance after the cold way I turned her down when she asked me to dinner. I wish I could go back and change the way I replied… well, I suppose I would change my actual reply too. I would say that yes, I would like dinner with her, and then I'd explain why it wouldn't work out that night. I'd tell her about my otosclerosis right then and there, and see if she'd still have me. I was scared about so many things just then and I really wasn't ready to add another thing to my list… fear makes us stupid.

However, regrets are just that. They can't change the past, but they may affect the future. I feel more and more determined every time I think this through to swallow my fears and let her in. It was The Beatles who said "remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make things better" and I think I could learn something from them even if they were talking to 'Jude' at the time. It's about time I did something to "make things better" since they can't get any worse. Out here, I feel brave and capable, but I know all it takes is the work environment and her standing in front of me to melt my courage and reduce my back to a coward.

I hear steps approaching me; it must be getting later than I thought if someone else is out on this path. I glance up and my heart stops for a second. It is a very surreal feeling to have your thoughts completely centered on a person and then look up and see that person. Especially when you're in one of the last places you expected to see them. I wonder for a split second if she's even real or just a figment of my momentarily over-active imagination. However, she's most definitely real and before I can gather my thoughts I've said her name aloud.

She stops a few feet from me and gives her usual greeting of "Hey."

She looks so lovely with the lamplight just barely touching her face, leaving much of it in shadow. I suddenly realize that she's spoken again; I think she asked me what I am doing here. I was thinking of her of course, but I don't think it would do to tell her so. I opt to tell her why I came to this spot instead of what I was _actually_ doing.

"On clear nights you can actually see some of the constellations from here since it's far enough away from The Strip's lights. Tonight, or this morning rather, the sky is quite clear and good for a little star-gazing."

As I say this I glance to the sky realizing belatedly that there are no longer many stars to see. I hope she buys my excuse anyway. She seems to and I can't think of anything to do but gaze at the empty and now graying sky. I sneak a glance at her and see she has her arms crossed and is gazing with interest at her shoes. I'm afraid she's going to make an excuse to leave and I want her to stay here a little longer. I wrack my brain for something to say that will start some sort of conversation.

Suddenly I realize that she herself had asked a question and though it's not creative, I could level it back at her while I think of something else to say. So, I ask what she's doing here and I'm rewarded with hearing her voice say in the distinctive pattern that intrigues me so:

"Walking. I come here often to walk," she says this with a shrug but it sends my mind reeling.

She comes here often… just like me?

"I've never seen you here," I say, wondering, if she's seen me and chosen to walk by, ignoring my presence.

I search her face for some clue, does she wish I hadn't looked up and seen her? My doubts are calmed when she answers my unspoken question.

"I've never seen you either, so I guess that makes us even."

It's crazy but I feel like throwing my head back and laughing with relief. I settle for a smirk. I look back at the sky, trying to think of something more captivating to say but she beats me to it saying;

"Well, I should probably be um… getting home, now. Despite popular belief I do sleep sometimes."

This is her exit line, but I'm sure I can make it into a stall tactic. I look purposefully skeptical, raising an eyebrow, and say,

"Is that so? Well, I'm not sure I believe that, I only believe the evidence and the evidence suggests you avoid sleep which would make your statement untrue."

This is stupid Gil, why don't you just tell her you want her to stay? I can't just blurt something like that out, that's why! Keep the conversation light, but also keep her here, that's my goal. I wonder if my last sentence was the wrong thing to say when I see a flash of what looks like sadness on her face, however, it is quickly replaced with a teasing look as she says;

"Well _Dr._ Grissom, what do I have to do to prove my statement to you?"

As she says this she purses her lips and raises one eyebrow in typical Sara fashion. I've always had a soft spot for that look of hers. I am greatly encouraged by her response to my efforts at friendship. I respond to her question without much thought over the answer.

"Well, I'd need proof."

Her look immediately lets me know that I said something that could be taken more than one way. What did I say? Oh… I realize now how that could be taken. I hope she doesn't take it that way and get upset at me. I'm also a little nervous she'll take the opportunity to let me squirm a little when she laughs, but I chuckle along too. She lets me off the self-made hook when she says:

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I have none so you'll just have to take me word for it."

I'm glad to get off so easy, but I want to keep up our playful banter so I say:

"You're asking a lot of me, Sara," and then realize how _that_ sounded. Talk about out of the frying pan, into the fire!

"You underestimate yourself and I would never ask more of you than you can give," she says immediately and then she looks surprised at her own words and rather embarrassed.

I'm really not sure how to respond to that since it seems our time of playful chit-chat has come to an end. Now would be that time to say something meaningful that lets her know how I feel. I search for words that will let her know I want to try.

She takes my silence as discomfort (which I'll admit I do feel, but not for the reason she probably thinks) and she looks up at the invisible stars that I've been watching.

She's opening her mouth undoubtedly to say goodbye. She'll go home and then tonight at work she'll avoid me like the plague and we'll have lost ground all because I can't get a grasp on what I want to say. Say _something,_ Gil, **now**!

"I know," I say in a whisper, wondering when I lost my voice.

Her mouth remains open, though now it is in shock not speech. Her confusion is painted all over her lovely face. I feel a sudden urge to kiss her but I doubt the wisdom of that urge, I've already shocked her, do I want to give her a heart attack too? I can't find the right words… I don't know how to explain myself. I smile at her but I know she needs more then two syllables and a facial twitch to make things clear. She deserves a full explanation but all I can manage now is to do what I always do with her. I reach out and take her hand in mine. I squeeze it gently, mentally begging her to understand.

Understanding does indeed dawn on her face and I feel like whooping with joy when I feel her squeeze my hand in return. I force myself to let go of her hand, I can't expect too much from her too fast. I see questions still lingering in her eyes, but she seems content to accept what I've given her for now.

Several strands of hair have fallen forward of her face. They look so soft and I can't seem to stop what I do next as I reach out and tuck them behind her ear. My hand brushes her smooth cheek and her eyes fall half-way closed. Though there is surprise etched on her face, she looks happy; happier than she has in a long time. I feel the need to give her some reassurance of my affection. She needs some explanation of why I'm only now trying. I need her so much and it's been hell without her. Worse still is the realization I've put her through the same hell.

"I just can't take it anymore," I say, realizing I still haven't found my voice.

"Neither can I," she says back, sounding equally breathless.

I can do nothing but nod. It's a moment that can't be found with words, and to say anything would mar it. I'm simply lost in her eyes and feel completely satisfied, like all is right in the world. I could stand here all week, but I notice that she is shivering though she herself doesn't seem to realize it. She should go home to bed, just because _I_ won't sleep today doesn't mean she shouldn't. It's not easy to say the words that will make her leave my side but I manage.

"You should go home to bed," I finally say.

"I thought you didn't believe I sleep."

I always enjoy that teasing smile of hers. I try to match her smile but I doubt mine is as cute.

"I don't, but I feel it is my responsibility to try to get you to take care of yourself," I say.

I wouldn't have believed it possible but her smile grows even wider and she nods. I wonder how much she'll sleep today. Will she spend all day reviewing this conversation like I will?

"Well, goodnight," she says.

I should just let her go, but I can't resist keeping our conversation going a little longer so I playfully point to the now light sky and correct her, saying:

"Good morning."

She gives a small, off-hand shrug.

"Well, I'm going to bed," she says, "so good morning seems wrong… how about sweet dreams?"

Well, Sara, if you're in them they will indeed be sweet, I think to myself.. What I say aloud is:

"I prefer 'sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite,' personally."

"You would," she says wrinkling her nose, but with a tone of what I can't help but think is warm affection, "you are the bug guy."

I bow my head in submission to the title she has bestowed on me. As she turns and heads down the path I can't resist trying for one more smile so I call out after her:

"I'll see you tonight."

She grins and nods before disappearing around a bend in the path.

Now that I'm alone I feel shocked and proud at how bold I was this morning. I wonder momentarily if she was truly here and if I really said and did the things I think I did. I shake my head to try to clear my churning thoughts. Maybe I'll ask her to have breakfast with me when I see her at work tonight.

As the park around me gets lighter and lighter I realize how much I like this place. I should really come here more often. Maybe I'll do more star-gazing soon and maybe next time I won't be alone.


	3. Epilogue

A/N: Well, I didn't intend originally to write an epilogue but sassysarasidle suggested I should. That got my mind going on the topic and here we are. What was first meant to have one chapter has three. Now, I'm warning you this chapter may be considered quite OOC. It kind of has to be to get them together, you know? Also, major cheese warning, I can't seem to help it. So, with all that said, I hope you enjoy and would appreciate any reviews. Thanks.

P.S. When season 6 aired I slipped back here and gave Warrick his wife. The story is otherwise unchanged even though my impulse was to re-write the whole thing. Looking back I see the true cheesiness of it, oh well.

Disclaimer: I'm such a procrastinator… I **_still_** don't own CSI… I'm starting to think I never will. SIGH. So, I'm afraid all grammatical errors, character flaws, and general cheese are my own fault. I don't have any money so don't bother suing.

**Epilogue**

They were walking down the path, side by side. Breakfast had been a huge success. They had eaten at a little café where the food was good and the coffee was even better. When they had finished and Grissom had paid he realized he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Sara just yet and had suggested a stroll in 'their' park. Sara had readily agreed, so now with coffee-to-go in hand they were walking along in peace.

They talked and walked there for the better part of an hour before parting with the promise of meeting again soon.

Several dinner dates followed along with several more breakfast dates. It was the breakfast dates that they always enjoyed the most. Maybe it was because neither of them liked having to dress up like they had to for a dinner date; maybe it was because the little café they went to for breakfast was quieter than the fancier restaurants. Sara was inclined to believe it was because they always went for a walk after breakfast. That didn't happen after dinner because shift was starting soon and they needed to change into more sensible clothing.

It wasn't long until they found a certain park bench which they unofficially claimed as their own since it seemed to have a magnetic draw. Their feet always ended up propelling them to that same spot. It was in the shade of a large tree and looked out on the little pond where ducks paddled leisurely about. Watching the ducks swim and fight for crumbs thrown by smiling children was very therapeutic after a long night of dealing with people on the worst day of their lives.

They made no secret of their relationship, but they didn't widely broadcast it either since they were both such private people. Their friends were informed but asked not to make a big deal of it. After they had gone on their first date; Greg, Nick and Warrick had peppered Sara with questions about it, but she had brushed them all off with a smile. Catherine had cornered Grissom and asked how it went.

"It went just fine, thank you, Catherine," was his vague response.

Catherine was not to be put off so easily and persisted.

"What did you _do_?"

"We had breakfast, went for a walk and we talked," he said with a sigh knowing Catherine wouldn't give up until she had something.

"What about?" came her predictable question.

Grissom had an answer ready which he borrowed from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_.

"Of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax, and cabbages and kings."

Catherine could get nothing more out of him and everyone soon learned not to ask, just to be happy for them.

As far as work went, Grissom was no longer able to write Sara's evaluations, but nothing else changed. Some people may have tried to make trouble for them but were prevented because both of their solve rates actually went up. This was due to the fact that they often consulted each other on their cases even when they weren't working them together. Their minds were great together.

**1 Month Later**

It was their second month as a couple. They were sitting on their bench, not talking, but just enjoying each other's company. When they first sat down there had been a conservative half foot space between them. Somehow over the course of half an hour that space had shrunk considerably to less than an inch. Grissom's arm soon found its way around Sara's shoulders and she leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world… because it _was_. On the way back to their vehicles he held her hand. Not to comfort her like when he had held her hands before, but just because he wanted to... just because he could.

**2 Weeks Later**

It was the toughest case they'd had in a while. A young woman and her four-year-old daughter; both found raped and brutally murdered. This case had everyone on edge, especially Grissom. It was only a matter of time until someone got snapped at. Unfortunately, it was Sara who delivered some very bad news at the wrong moment and got the full blast. She took his tirade silently, knowing it wasn't really her he was upset at, but feeling hurt none the less.

Everyone worked their hardest, barely resting until they found some concrete evidence against the jealous ex-boyfriend who they all knew was guilty as sin. DNA evidence was still pending, but they had enough to hold the guy for the time being and the entire night-shift was banished from the lab for the next 24 hours to get some sleep. The swing and day shifts could cover for them, they were assured; they needed rest.

Sara decided to stop for a quick "supper" though it was almost 1:00 a.m. before she headed home. She grabbed a quick bite but somehow instead of heading home she found herself headed for the park. She was reasonably still a little upset at Grissom and hadn't even stopped at his office to say goodnight. So, feeling slightly overwhelmed with the case and personal matters, she looked for comfort in the place where her happiest hours of late had been spent. She soon found herself meandering down the darkened path toward a little clearing where the stars could be seen.

She paused under the halo of light that marked Grissom's star-gazing spot. She suddenly realized that she had yet to be here with him to watch the stars. She walked off the path and onto the grass, sitting down just outside the circle of light afforded by the lamp. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, gazing at the clear sky. Soon, she began to feel cold and the exhaustion of the past few days weighed heavily on her. She was just about to stand and go when a familiar voice sounded from behind her, making her jump a little.

"I hoped you might be here," said Grissom.

She turned and saw him standing, bundled in a jacket; thermos in hand.

"Sara, I'm so sorry about losing it and snapping at you," he said taking a seat beside her on the ground, "I know it wasn't your fault that the evidence said something other than I wanted it to. Forgive me?"

She smiled and leaned into him slightly, "It's forgotten," she said; and it was.

He put his right arm around her and pulled her shivering frame to him. He removed his jacket and put it around her shoulders before placing his arm around her again. He held the thermos out to her.

"Coffee, or in Latin- peace offering," he joked and she laughed, as she took the thermos and began to open it.

"I'm afraid I was in a hurry and forgot to get cups," he said, apologetically. "I was a little worried when you weren't in your apartment, and though I thought you'd be here, I was rather anxious to find out for sure."

"Well, the lid is a cup and we can share it," she said with a smile.

They shared the coffee and sat watching the skies.

"You know," he said at last, "this is a fantasy come true for me. I've always wanted to go star-gazing with you."

She looked up at him and gave him a squeeze with her left arm which was around his waist. His right arm was still draped over her shoulders and as they looked into each others eyes it hit both of them… they'd never kissed. After that thought ran through their heads another immediately followed… _why_ hadn't they ever kissed? Since Grissom could think of no reason he had not kissed this woman, he decided to remedy the situation at once. He leaned in slowly until his lips hovered a breath away from hers, then he paused to give her the opportunity to draw back if she wanted to. She made no move to pull away so he gently brushed his lips over hers. He pulled away slowly only to realize he wasn't ready to end their kiss and so he placed his lips back on hers with a little more pressure. Her hand traveled from his waist up to the back of his neck and she wasn't about to let him draw back so soon this time. She returned the pressure with her lips and hesitantly ran her tongue over his bottom lip; an invitation to deepen the kiss. Grissom didn't need to be asked twice. His hands now in her hair, he kissed her with all the love he felt for her. When they reluctantly broke apart, they were both a little breathless and both blushing like teenagers on a first date. Sara grinned and shifted so her head rested on his chest and both Grissom's arms went around her, holding her closely to him as they watched the stars.

**8 Months Later**

It was a little after two in the afternoon and the sun was smiling warmly. The two CSI's were lying on a blanket in the shade of an obliging tree. They had enjoyed a picnic lunch and a stroll, but were now content to simply lie side by side.

Sara was on her stomach with her head resting on her folded arms; her eyes closed, feeling warm and happy. Grissom was on his left side, propped up on his elbow and facing Sara. His right arm was draped over her back and was gently tracing patterns on her shirt. It was their day off, and it was perfect.

"Sara?"

"Mm-hmm?" came her groggy reply.

"I love you."

She smiled, though her eyes remained closed, "I love you too, Gil."

Silenced reigned for several minutes.

"I'm not sure the name 'Sara Sidle' suits you," he said at last.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, raising her head and looking at him, one eyebrow cocked.

"I mean, I don't think the name 'Sara Sidle' is the right name for you."

"Okay then, Mr. 'Name Expert,' what should my name be?" she asked, laughingly reaching up and leaving a kiss on his nose.

"Sara Grissom," came his steady reply.

"What?" was Sara's startled question.

"Well, Sara Sidle," he said as he retrieved a small box from his pocket, "I'm asking if you would let me change your name."

As he said this he opened the box revealing a diamond solitaire set in white gold.

"So… will you marry me, Sara, and be Sara Grissom?"

She lay still for a second with a look of utter shock on her face before lunging at Grissom with such force she knocked him over onto his back. Her arms were tightly around his neck and she was almost completely on top of him. He was laughing lightly as she brought her lips close to his. Just before their lips touched she whispered:

"I suppose so… just this once."

His laugh was silenced by her kiss and he held her tightly to him before flipping them over so he was looming over _her_. His arms still cradled her gently and took most of his weight.

"Well then, I suppose you'll want to wear this?"

He moved one of his arms from her back and pulled her left arm from around his neck, placing the ring on her appropriate finger.

"You bet I…" her sentence was cut off by his lips, but she didn't complain.

**10 Years Later**

They sat facing the pond; both of them had their eyes warily trained on the two little beings who were throwing crumbs to the greedy ducks.

Lucy Grissom was eight-years-old and Liam Grissom had turned six, just last month.

Gil's arm was around his lovely wife and while he watched his children play, he thought back over his married life. So many things had changed in ten year's time.

Their engagement had been a very short two months. Just enough time to organize a simple ceremony. Sara had worn an ankle-length white dress and Grissom, a tux. They had no wedding attendants, but all their closest friends and family came to watch them joined forever.

Soon after they were married, Grissom published a book on forensic entomology which gained him even greater respect and fame in his field. The book was now a mandatory read in most forensic entomology courses as well as many just forensic courses. Requests for speeches and papers came pouring in, but Grissom paid little heed to them and continued on as night shift supervisor for a while. Then, Sara felt she should transfer to dayshift since despite how careful they were about favoritism, Grissom was getting criticized for having his wife under him and she knew he couldn't give her any promotions even if she deserved them.

She made the transfer which was difficult since, thanks to their different shifts, it meant she rarely had time to spend with just Gil. Meanwhile, he was writing another book and writing the occasional paper too. He missed Sara more than he could say and started seriously considering retirement.

After his second book was well received he did indeed retire from the Las Vegas crime lab. They were more than a little reluctant to let him go, however, he agreed to remain open for consultations several times a week if he was needed, and they had no choice but to accept his resignation. Now he would be free to take the hours he chose and spend time with his wife. He wasn't worried about finances because his savings was quite impressive and he received royalties on his books, not to mention that consulting paid better than normal work. Sara could quit if she wanted, and he could write papers, or teach classes now and then, and they'd live quite comfortably. However, Sara wasn't ready to quit, she loved her job too much to do nothing.

Two years after their marriage, Sara discovered; much to her and Gil's joy, that she was pregnant. Lucy was born and the Grissoms couldn't imagine life without her.

Over the next few years Liam was born to them and Sara became supervisor of the day shift. She did a wonderful job of balancing work and motherhood.

Catherine Willows had become head of the crime lab after Ecklie had decided to run for sheriff and won several years before. Warrick Brown had taken a job teaching forensic courses at a university in Los Angeles since his wife had never approved of his job; it turned out he had a real gift for teaching and he was never sure why, but most of his class was usually female. Nick Stokes' father had passed away and he had gone back to visit his family, only to realize how much he missed being near them. After much consideration he transferred back to Texas but still kept in close contact with his friends in Vegas. He married a local girl and helped elevate the crime lab to number six in the country as well as producing a healthy batch of young Stokes to populate the world with. As for Greg Sanders, he had become a CSI level three and was being seriously considered for head CSI of night shift. He was engaged to nice girl named Caitlin who had been brought in to replace Archie in the A/V lab when Archie had become a CSI level one under Sara.

"Yes," thought Gil, "so much has changed."

However, he wouldn't go back to his old life for anything, he had never been as happy as he was now.

Sara sighed in the arms of her husband as she watched the children he had given her. Liam wanted to be just like his daddy, although, with big brown eyes, a wide smile, and dark hair, his looks were definitely his mother's. He already had an impressive collection of insects which he insisted on keeping and his mother allowed, so long as they stayed in the glass aquarium his father had provided.

Lucy on the other hand was a pleasant mix of both her parents and Sara was overjoyed that she had her father's eyes. She was a beauty and would be a "real heartbreaker" as Jim Brass had said with a certain amount of pride. He had a real soft spot for Lucy who was allowed to call him "Uncle Jimmy" and she quite adored him. She was given to quiet reflection and reading rather than running around chasing bugs as her brother was prone to do. However, she had "spunk" as her Uncle Jimmy said which got her into a few scraps on the school yard.

"Mom! Dad!" Liam called as he ran up to the contemplative pair with Lucy following behind at a more sensible pace.

"Yes, Baby?" asked Sara.

"We want to go for a walk. Will you and Dad take us?"

Sara glanced at Gil who nodded and stood to his feet, offering his hand to assist his wife.

"Can we go to the place where Dad asked you to marry him?" asked Lucy, looking at her mother and father.

"Sick! No!" protested Liam, but Gil was already nodding at his daughter.

He took Sara's hand and they started down the path; the kids racing ahead, and then waiting for their parents to catch up only to race ahead again.

"By the way Mrs. Grissom, have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked, kissing her hand.

"The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you, Mr. Grissom," she said, moving in for a kiss which lasted much longer than their kids wanted.

"Do you _have_ to do that in public?" asked their daughter who was smiling despite her words.

"Of course I do," answered her father, "this is the woman I love."

The End

Please let me know what you think. I know it was cheesy, but it wouldn't come out any other way. Thanks for reading!


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